For A Moment, I'd Forgotten
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: For a moment I'd forgotten; but when I finally remembered what day it was, I felt the years come rushing back...and it stung, anew. A short fiction told from three perspectives.
1. Chapter 1: Roy

For a moment I had forgotten. And as I stand here wiping down the tables in my cafe, I admonish myself for it, still.

It was a date that I always remembered. After all, Hayley had been very insistent that I did.

I pause as I attempt to scrub out a particularly stuck on piece of red sauce off of one of the tables, as I remember her. If I were to close my eyes I would be able to see her face perfectly: the pursed mouth, the furrowed brow, the crestfallen look in her eyes...

Yes, If my wife was still alive, I'd feel she'd be very disappointed in me, indeed.

If I was the type of person who made excuses, I would argue that it wasn't surprising that I'd forgotten given all that had happened this year. That it was a date that simply came too quickly upon the heels of other tragedies and near misses. Yes, I would argue all those points.

And yet, the moment I saw Carla carrying her small suitcase out into the sitting area of my flat yesterday evening - the flat that, much to my sincere contentment, she'd lovingly began to refer to as her home - the moment it suddenly came back to me what yesterday was, I felt the years come rushing back.

And it stung, anew.

She had been honest with me about why she had chosen to book a hotel room for the next couple of nights. I had tried to convince her that she needn't bother; that despite her worries that she wouldn't disturb me. That I was happy to sit up with her if that's what she needed. I tried to convince her to come home when I spoke to her last night on the phone.

But her mind had been well and truly made up. Despite how close we'd become over the years, she still felt uncomfortable showing her deep-rooted vulnerability to anyone, even to me; one of the privileged few to ever see the real Carla that lay beneath the designer clothes, the glib sarcasm, and the smile that she plastered on to the world.

But it wasn't just her vulnerability that she was uncomfortable with. No, it was more than that; she felt she would be a burden - and she simply hated feeling like a burden. In that way we are more alike than it often appears to those around here.

I know what they say about us. I know they think it weird that Carla Connor lives with me, Royston Cropper, in a flat above the cafe I own.

Odd couple, they call us. And they would be right. Carla herself had joked about us being two lost souls who should 'shack up' back in December of 2014, and give folk something to talk about. It took a while before I really got used to her humour, and I feel more comfortable returning her sarcasm with my own now. And even though outwardly I despise banter, I honestly have a fondness for it but only when it comes to Carla. She joked about us getting married after she collapsed in the street earlier this year from her kidney disease. I told her I couldn't think of anything more disturbing, and she laughed.

I knew she would.

She laughed because she thinks about me the way I feel about her. Only she had jokingly voiced it to the nurse, when she called me 'her dad'.

I, on the other hand, have yet to say it out loud that I see her as a daughter to me. I do not know when I will ever get up the nerve to do so. I've never been one to outwardly embrace sentimentality.

But she knows how I feel about her.

She knows it in the way I am able to hug her without needing to be asked first.

She knows it in the way I accept her kisses without flinching away the way I used to, unless she catches me by surprise of course.

She knows it because I told her that I loved her. That I would not stand around while someone else I loved died.

She knows it because she found out I was tested to be a donor when I discovered she needed a transplant.

She knows it because I called her six times last night until she begged me, through the tears that I could hear her shedding but trying hard to conceal from me, to go to bed. I knew she would feel guilty for my staying up and worrying about her, so I told her that as long as she promised to pop into the cafe first thing this morning, I would stop calling.

She agreed.

And she floated in this morning for a coffee and a bacon butty with that glorious Carla Connor smile and a disposition that said it was business as usual, that didn't fool me for one second.

She had managed to fool others though and that didn't surprise me. She was very good at that facade she put on. But I was caught off guard that she had actually managed to fool the one person I did not expect: the man that had just wandered into my cafe...

"Hiya Roy," he says to me as he looks around rather awkwardly, and I turn to face him, holding my spray bottle and my dishtowel, "I know you're closing up, but I wondered if you wouldn't mind if I bobbed up to see madam for a minute."

"Ordinarily I wouldn't, but she is not in." I respond honestly and he genuinely looks shocked.

"Oh," for a moment he sounds quite crestfallen, "I don't understand. I left her in the pub to make a phone call, and saw her head off in this direction a bit later. She said she was off home..."

I feel my eyes dart about of their own accord as I realize I've put my foot in it. She did not want anyone knowing where she was and to be honest, neither of us thought we'd be put in the position where I had to lie. After all, as she has lovingly pointed out, I am a terrible liar...

"Uhh, yes, she ummm..." I start to feel my neck start to itch, and I begin absentmindedly scratching it, "she has decided to stay in town this evening, as she has ummm an early morning meeting."

He stands there with his hands on his hips and a perplexed look on his face, "what meeting?" he asks, and I simply want to be anywhere but in this conversation, "there's nothing in the diary..."

"Uhh, per-perhaps she forgot to mark it down?" I take myself behind the counter and feel him follow me to it

"Is your neck alright, Roy?"

"Uh, yes, why- why wouldn't it be?" I question rather flippantly

"Because it looks like you've got a rash starting there, it's gone quite red..."

"Oh, it's just a mild reaction to umm the detergent I've been using."

"Okay," I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he drops it as he picks back up on the conversation at hand, "anyways, this is Carla we're talking about. Mrs. Type A, Workaholic herself. When has she ever forgotten to write anything down?"

"I'm sure it was just an oversight," I try, desperately attempting to cease the itch that kept climbing ever higher up my neck

"No, I know what this is," he states as he leans on the glass at my counter and I have a sneaking suspicion that he hasn't a clue in the slightest, "she's deliberately hiding meetings with clients from me now."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I was right. He hasn't a clue... "Why would she do that?"

"Because Roy, she's been trying to force me out of that place since day one!" He says angrily, his voice rising slightly, "You know, I thought we were getting somewhere. Back to being friends, and business partners, but oh no! Not Carla! She needs to be the one constantly calling the shots. She'll do whatever it takes to get what she wants."

"That's preposterous!" I can feel myself starting to get defensive of her as he lashes out, but keep myself restrained by wiping down the grill...

"Yeah? Well, she were more than happy to take my money to get what she wanted. To get her hands on that precious factory of hers!" At my lack of response, he pushes himself away from the counter, seemingly about to leave before spinning back to me once more, "You know, I were right what I said to her all them months ago. She uses people-"

"That is enough!" I raise my voice as I throw the dishtowel down on the counter and face him. I can tell he's taken aback by my outburst. It's not often that I raise my voice. "I will not have you stand there and insult Carla like that; not after everything she's ever done for you in the past, and especially not today!"

"What do you mean, 'especially not today'?" he asks, taking a step forward, his curiousity piqued, and I admonish myself for getting so agitated. "Roy?" he says my name a bit more firmly, and I can't help but meet his questioning gaze. "What do you mean, 'especially not today?'"

"It's not my place to say..." I answer quietly, "but I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out if you consult your calendar..."

He still has a confused and irritated expression upon his face as he whips out his phone and I continue with cleaning the grill, my eyes constantly darting back to him as he checks his mobile. I watch as the colour drains from his face as he most likely sees the date on his screen: September 20th, 2018. I watch as his eyes close and he brings his fingers up to rub his eyes.

"Yesterday...I can't believe it," he whispers, "I can't believe I forgot..."

"You weren't the only one," I say offering him some comfort, "I too had forgotten myself..."

"I was so angry at her yesterday," he says, "angry about the whole Vicky situation, and today I acted like a spoiled kid, I didn't even notice if she was okay," he exhaled and I could see he was trying to hold it together, "is she okay?"

"Well, you know Carla," I responded kindly, "even if she wasn't she wouldn't say."

"The things I said to her..." he looks like he's about to be sick, and I wonder just what happened between them, "Where is she Roy?" he asks, "what hotel?"

"I-I don't know if I should divulge that, Peter." And I really do mean it, until I look into his worried eyes, and I feel myself weakening as I give him the hotel name and room number.

I fully expect her to unleash on me tomorrow when she returns. But I know I can talk her round. I always do.

As much as she may deny it, I know she needs him right now...


	2. Chapter 2: Peter

I can't believe I'd forgotten.

7 years.

It had been 7 years since it happened.

Well, 7 years and 1 day, now...

As I now sit in the back of the cab, the one I purposefully didn't order from Streetcars, with my leg jolting up and down in nervous trepidation, I only have one question on my mind. How could I have been so stupid?

In all our years together, I never forgot September 19th.

Even when we were apart, I never forgot it. I may not have been there for her physically, but I _never_ forgot.

Even when I was at my worst four years ago, sat in my prison cell after being threatened by Jim MacDonald, I hadn't forgotten. I had seen her just a couple weeks earlier, and at the time I thought it would be the last time I looked upon my beautiful wife. But I had pulled through. And as I sat in my dank prison cell on September the 19th, the only thing I could think of, was her. How she was doing, how she must be feeling, even though it was three years on.

I remembered wanting to call her, knowing that she probably wouldn't even accept the call. I had thought about calling the landline of the flat that had been ours, while I knew she'd be at the factory, and leaving a voicemail; just to tell her that I was thinking of her.

But I didn't.

I knew that Jim was bound to find out that I was responsible for Amy not visiting, and that once he did he would do whatever he could to destroy me for it. And I feared, no matter how irrationally, that if he even got wind that I had talked to Carla, he would find a way to hurt her to get to me. So, for the first time since it happened, I kept my distance from her on that day.

And it killed me to do so.

By September 2015, I was in Portsmouth and she had just come through another massive ordeal; one of me own half-sister's making. And once again, I wasn't there to pull her through it, but Nick was. And as much as I hated the idea of Carla - of _my_ Carla - with that smarmy, suited, jumped-up ponce, I was somewhat grateful that he had been a rock for her when she needed it most. I had only heard about what had happened at her Victoria Court flat from Leanne. Passing out drunk may have sounded like Carla, but doing so while watching a child wasn't her style. Nor was leaving a candle burning. I tried to voice as much to Leanne, but she wouldn't hear any of it. She was grieving after all. She could only see Carla with a bottle and assume the worst.

I know that Carla and alcohol could be a dangerous mix, but normally that occurred when she was in a very dark place. I've seen her drunk and downright giddy and happy; laughing and having fun with Michelle and Maria, or just letting loose and being genuinely carefree...our wedding day comes to mind, but I guiltily try not to think of that day...

But Leanne had more than one reason to assume the worst of Carla: and that again had to do with me. It's not the first time she experienced the lethal combination of alcohol and flames, firsthand. After all, I had passed out drunk - cigarette in hand - with my son in his bed, and set the flat on fire...rescued, ironically, by Carla's nutter of an ex-husband.

But while Leanne saw her former mate and booze as a lethal combination, I knew better. I _knew_ Carla: her ex, that same Scottish psycho who had heroically pulled me from my burning flat, had also tied her to a chair at gunpoint in her factory the following year and set the place ablaze in some twisted, romanticized, murder/suicide revenge plot.

Like I said, I knew Carla would never leave a candle burning, because I knew that she still had a slight phobia surrounding open flames...a phobia that sparked after her ordeal with Tony Gordon, and has only now intensified thanks to Tracy.

And Tracy had been more than happy to have Carla take the blame for the deaths of two people, until Dierdre's tragic passing; that's when the guilt really started creeping in for me half-sister. That's when she too, really started to see the self-destruction Carla was inflicting upon herself.

I remember seeing her just after my stepmum's funeral, both of us still unaware of Tracy's involvement at this point, as I prepared to leave Weatherfield once more, and for the briefest of moments we locked eyes. I tried to offer her the smallest semblance of a smile, to let her know that I knew she wasn't responsible. But she didn't acknowledge it back.

Numb.

She simply looked totally and utterly numb to all around her.

I'd seen her look that way once before...

4 years prior...

After_ it_ happened.

And I'm not ashamed to admit that it frightened the hell out of me.

Simon had been one of the few not to vilify her on the street, and as such promised me he would keep an eye out for her; that he would fill me in on everything during our chats. And that he did. I remember the call he made when it all came out that Carla had not been to blame for the fire, and that it had been Tracy all along. He told me how Nick had been the one to call the police, because he couldn't stand to see the woman he loved still taking the blame from all on the street.

The woman _he_ loved.

After what he did to her on their wedding day, I can't believe he ever loved her at all.

And yes, I am all too aware of the irony...

As much as I wanted to lash out over the phone at this news of Nick and Carla being together, I knew I didn't have a right to say anything. And I certainly didn't want to take it out on my son. He was due to come down to Portsmouth at the end of September, and I couldn't wait to see him.

But first, I had to pass _that_ date knowing I would once again not be there with her...

On the 19th, I had ordered and sent her a bouquet of flowers; an arrangement of some of her favorites, - not roses - 'tacky' she had once said. No, simply a bouquet of peonies and lillies. The peonies were out of season, and I knew I'd be paying through the teeth for them, but I didn't care. She had to know they were from _me_ \- from me and not from Nick flamin' Tilsley.

I didn't put my name on the small card that was sent with it; instructing the florist by phone to only write:

_If you haven't heard this yet today... _

_I'm proud of you! _

_Thinking of you today, and always. _

_4 years strong._

I refused to sign it with a kiss. I didn't want to taint the sincerity behind them. They weren't supposed to be like the first bouquet I ever sent her...they weren't supposed to be romantic.

I wasn't expecting a response back. I didn't do it to get a thank you. To be honest, I was sure that once she read the card, no matter how sincere, she would have chucked them away; and I had resigned myself to that, because even for just that moment she would have known that I was still proud of her, and that I still remembered.

I didn't hear from her.

Simon had came down to Portsmouth a week later, and as we sat down to dinner he filled me in on the gossip from home. He took out his mobile and scrolled through some images, stopping on one and with a cheeky grin plastered on his face, he handed me the phone.

And I could have sworn my heart stopped beating the moment my eyes rested on the image...

It was a photo of him and Carla from a few days prior, standing in her newly renovated flat. Simon was in front of her and she had her arms draped around his shoulders, her cheek resting against his head as he took a selfie of the two of them...

...with my bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase on the counter just behind her.

I didn't think I would ever see a photo quite so beautiful again and I quickly sent it to myself.

I shift slightly in my seat in the cab, fumbling in my pants pocket until I grasp my wallet and pull it out. In one of the insets, I carefully take out the photo and just stare at it; my thumb tracing along both Carla and Simon's faces, and I feel my lips turn up into a smile, as it always does whenever I look at it. Unbeknownst to Carla, Simon, and especially Toyah when we were together, that picture has remained safely tucked away in my wallet since 2015.

The cabbie announces that we have arrived, and I pull out my credit card to pay the fare. I grab my purchase from the seat next to me in my hand and head out of the cab and into the lobby of the hotel where Carla had checked in the evening prior.

I suddenly feel my mouth go dry as the elevator starts to move upwards.

I do not know how she will react when she sees me.

Worse still, I do not know how I will react.

As the elevator pings to announce its arrival on the 10th floor, I take a deep breath and await the doors to open.

My feet move of their own accord; following the signs for the room and I am not surprised that she has requested the room at the end of the hall.

She always preferred the room at the end of the hall.

I raise my hand to knock on the door, before turning around and taking in a few deep breaths.

Once I feel composed I rap my knuckles on the wooden door and wait.

I don't wait long, because she is suddenly before me.

Her eyes are puffy and glassy, her hair is damp on the ends, and she is wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe.

She sighs as she leans against the doorframe, "Roy..." she whispers and I nod

"Don't be cross with him," I say, "I didn't give him much choice..."

She looks away from me and exhales a rather shaky breath, "look, Peter, if you've come 'ere to 'ave a go at me-"

"I haven't," I interrupt her, keeping my voice low and calm

She sighs again, "then why are you here?"

"I came to give you this," I pull my arm out from behind my back and gently thrust the item clutched between my fingers towards her, "to let you know I'm thinking about you, and that I'm still so proud of you..."

Her eyes fall to the bouquet of lilies, and I see the tears begin to build in her eyes as she takes them delicately into her hand, "I uhh, wasn't able to get the peonies on such short notice, them being out of season and all," I explain, "but I made sure I went to three florists before I found the right lilies..."

"Only three?" she questions jokingly with a sniffle,

"Yeah, the cabbie weren't all that impressed. Just told me to get some roses and be done with it. And I told him that if he knew you, he would understand why I would go to a hundred florists to get the right flowers."

"Cheesy..." she chuckles, her eyes still downcast

"But truthful..." I whisper, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear, and it is then that she finally looks back into my eyes.

I watch as she exhales once more; watch the way she tries to bit her lower lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling;

I watch as the tears that had filled her eyes slowly begin to trickle down her cheeks,

"Peter..." she whispers shakily

I gather her in my embrace, feel her arms wrap around me and I cradle her head in my hand, "It's okay," I hush her lovingly, "shhh, I'm here now."


	3. Chapter 3: Carla (and Roy)

**Earlier that day...**

"Morning, stranger!" I call out cheerfully as I approach the counter at 8:15 am.

Roy turns his head and offers as much of a smile as Roy does, "Morning!" he responds back and I press my hands onto the countertop and tap the toe of my left boot behind me as I smile back at him; hoping the countless eyedrops I poured into my eyes and the extra layer of concealer I applied under them are enough to mask the red lines and dark circles that were glaringly present in the mirror of the hotel bathroom just over an hour ago.

It should be fine, I scold myself. I've had loads of experience hiding a rough night beneath my makeup and me fake grin.

But as he steps towards me, I suddenly feel less than confident in my ability to contour and conceal, and I find myself quickly looking down towards my hands.

I absolutely love this man to bits. Love him to the very parts of my soul that I didn't even know were possible. But I _hate_ how he can see right through me and the front I put up to everyone around me. He's one of the few people I cannot seem to fool, the only others being Michelle, and Peter...

_Peter._

Just thinking about him suddenly makes my blood boil.

The brass neck he 'ad on him to speak to me the way he did yesterday! Calling me pigheaded because I wouldn't just sack Vicky on the spot like he wanted after she had just saved our backsides when Kirk had called in sick. The way Peter rose his fist at me as he tried to sputter out that I make him angry, but it only coming out muffled as he thought better of it.

You know, clamming up when he did then, was probably the smartest move he made yesterday.

The absolute cheek of him, thinking I would just do as he says simply because he said so. You think he would know by now that when he says 'jump', I'll definitely pull out the trampoline...

...only to flamin' well chuck it into the flipping canal!

Maybe followed by him and all! I haven't decided that far ahead yet...

"You're looking...well," Roy says, drawing me back to the present, and as I look up to meet his kind eyes, I can see his eyebrow has now raised as he pins me with his concerned, father-like, gaze.

"I am doing well," I say, smiling wider at him, "but I'd be a lot better if me favourite cafe owner could whip me up a cup of coffee and a bacon butty with brown sauce like only he can?"

"Of course," he says and gestures to one of the tables, "ha-have a seat and I'll bring them over."

"Oh," I say as I stand up straight, "Actually Roy I were hopin' to get them to go, I really need to be gettin' to the factory-" I stop speaking as he slowly turns back towards me.

He doesn't say a word. Doesn't alter his stance. Just stares at me until I feel myself pressing my lips together and blinking rapidly at him before I point my thumb towards the empty table he had gestured to and begin making my way towards it.

I have to hand it to him, he's nailed that death glare of mine down, and I didn't even know he'd been practicing...

I sit down and catch his eye as I place my bag on the empty chair beside me, and he actually smirks smugly at me.

I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him, "you know, you can be _real_ annoying sometimes Roy Cropper, you do know that, right?"

"Yes, you have told me this on countless occasions..." he retorts back, wagging his finger at me knowingly, before heading off to the grill.

With a chuckle and a sigh, I pull out my phone and begin scrolling through my agenda for the day. Other than a few phone meetings, my day is pretty much free. I'm glad it panned out that way; I usually try to keep the 19th and 20th of September free from as much stress as possible. My emotions always run high on these two particular days; of course they would. I had once naively thought it would go away after the first few years, especially after _he_ was killed. But time, it seems, does not cure all, and I shudder involuntarily as his face floats into my mind's eye once again.

...seven years and counting...

I'm brought back to where I sit in the cafe as my cup of coffee is placed before me on the table

"Ta, Shona," I say as I smile kindly at her

"Didn't realize he suffered from separation anxiety," she says in a low voice, placing a hand on her hip and using her head to gesture towards Roy

"How'd you mean?" I ask, my eyes darting to where he stood with his back to us, shifting the cooked bacon as it sizzled in the pan

"Well, he were in a right mood this morning," she whispers, leaning closer to me, "distracted, constantly looking towards the door, messing up some orders..." she glanced over to him, ensuring he wasn't able to hear her, "and then, you walk in, and suddenly he's, I dunno, relieved? Like a weight has been lifted off of him..."

I can actually feel the moment when my heart shatters in my chest, and I close my eyes and exhale. My tongue darts along my lips before I open my eyes again and gaze upon him as he busies himself with taking another order from a customer who has just walked in.

"I didn't realize..."

"Oh, Carla I were just teasing about the separation thing..." she says and I know she thinks she overstepped, "he just worries about you, is all. His face lit up when he saw you walk through them doors. It's actually dead sweet."

I smile and nod, "yeah, he is," I whisper.

"Dads eh?" Shona winks at me and we both chuckle before she heads back into the kitchen, taking the customer's order from Roy as he puts together my sandwich.

"Yeah," I smile at the thought. He definitely feels more like a dad to me than me actual dad. The dad I didn't know was my dad until I were 40 years old...

"One bacon butty with brown sauce," Roy's soft voice calls to me as he places the plate down on the table and proceeds to sit in the empty chair across from me.

"Roy Cropper, if I could bottle you I'd make a fortune," I smile at him

"Too much of a good thing..." he counters back and I raise my eyebrows at him

"You actually taking a compliment, Roy?"

"N-no, I am not, as it happens,"

_Oh for..._

"You assume that I am considered a 'good thing' that others would wish to spend money on obtaining..."

_'ere we go..._ I think to myself, rolling my eyes and taking a bite of the sandwich as he continues

"...I am simply pointing out the flaw in your logic, that too much of this supposed 'good thing' - the good thing being 'me' - would become overtly excessive, and therefore ultimately becoming a bad thing..."

"Well, in that case, I best make a call to my suppliers then," I say allowing my middle finger to catch the small amount of brown sauce that has pooled in the corner of my lips, "tell them we're only going to bottle a small amount; sell them as rare and exclusive instead..."

"You're being flippant..."

"You're being tedious..." I counter back with a grin, taking another bite of my sandwich and winking at him and he smiles back.

"How did you sleep?"

I chew thoughtfully and swallow before responding back, "Yeah, I slept alright."

"Really?"

I nod, "Yeah I mean, it took me a while to drift off, but once I did I were okay."

This wasn't exactly the truth. It took a long time to finally fall asleep last night, and I must have woken about four times from the same damn nightmare. After the fourth time I simply sat up in bed and turned on the telly, blatantly refusing to close my eyes for the remainder of the night.

Roy didn't need to know that, though... "it's probably the reason I look a bit drained this morning, Roy," I continue, "I didn't manage as much sleep as I needed, but I did manage to get some in the end..."

He nods, and I can't tell if he entirely believes me but he seems content to drop it for the time being, "And you're sure you don't want to come home tonight?"

I offer him a thankful smile but shake my head, "I just need one more night, Roy," I answer in a low voice, "after everything that's happened this year - you know, with Aidan and everything - I just, I dunno know, I guess I'm just struggling a bit more this year than I was in previous years," I reach across the table and grasp his hand in mine, "one more night and I'll be back to normal, I promise."

"As long as you can assure me that you'll be alright?" He says kindly, placing his other hand on top of mine

"I promise if it gets too much being on me own, that I'll come home." I acquiesce and it's a promise I mean.

I hate causing him any undue stress...

"So, on a nicer topic of conversation," I say, my voice becoming a bit brighter as I lean further towards him, "it's your birthday tomorrow, and yes, I know how much you don't like a fuss, so how's about we stay in tomorrow evening, you pick out a documentary or film or whatever, and I cook us up a meal?"

"Cook a meal?" He asks

"Yeah,"

"You?"

I can feel my defences starting to rise up, "yes, Roy. Me!"

He looks up to the ceiling, his lips parted as he tries to come up with the nicest way possible to back out of an evening of my cooking...

I sigh dejectedly, "Okay, fine I get it," I mumble, admittedly a little hurt, "Tell you what: I'll take you to the Bistro instead, and then we can come back and watch a film."

"You don't have to make a fuss, Carla," he says, "it is just another day, really. I have no problem with cooking tomorrow evening,"

"No, Roy, _I_ want to do something special for _you_!" I exclaim, "and since you've made it perfectly clear that I'm absolute rubbish in the kitchen, I'll settle for allowing someone else to make the meal as long as I get to treat you." I play with my fingers absentmindedly before gazing back at him with a lopsided smile, "probably safer any road," I chuckle, "I would feel dead guilty if I gave you food poisoning, after all."

"You're not rubbish in the kitchen, Carla," he admonishes me, "you just lack patience, and practice," he nods his head a little thoughtfully, "some basic chopping skills..."

"Yes, Roy, you've made your point," I roll my eyes at him, "so, is it a date, then?"

"If you insist on making a fuss,"

"I do,"

"Then yes, that sounds like an enjoyable evening."

I smile and nod my head, "well good," I say and lean back in my chair, "something good to look forward to, then," I take the last few bites of my butty as we sit in companionable silence.

A silence that doesn't last too long...

"So, has uhh," Roy begins as he shifts awkwardly, "has Pe-Peter been taking some of the stress off at work these past few days?"

I feel my face fall a bit and his eyebrows raise in surprise, "Umm, to be honest Roy, things 'ave been a bit tense between us the last couple of days."

"I thought things were going well workwise between you both?"

I nod, "yeah they were. Until I apparently hired the mum of that lad that's been causing Simon grief and Peter laid into me about it," I mumble frustratedly, "I had no idea Vicky were Tyler's mum, and I tried to tell him that but he told me to fire her or he'd take his investment and walk." I shake my head, my eyes travelling up to the ceiling, "so I were put in a corner, and yesterday I had every intention of letting her go on a technicality, but then Kirk called in sick and she ended up saving our skins by getting the delivery out on time. Peter found out and we had a right go at each other in me loading bay, and he stomped off when I refused to sack her."

"And this was, yesterday?" Roy prods gently and I fold my arms around myself and nod, looking down at the table and refusing to meet, what I fear will be pity in his gaze.

"He's been pre-occupied with everything with Simon, Roy," I whisper,

"I don't doubt that, but it still shocks me all the same that he-"

"It were a long time ago-" I interrupt

"It wasn't _that_ long ago," he corrects me

I keep my eyes fixed on the table before me, "it's not his cross to bear, Roy," I exhale briefly before garnering enough courage to look him in the eye, "it's not yours either..."

"Perhaps not," he leans his elbows on the table, "but that doesn't mean it should be a burden you carry on your own."

"To be honest he probably assumes I don't want him to bring it up."

"Why would he assume that?"

I let out a sigh, "He sent me a text two years ago; when I were in Devon. Just to check in and see if I were okay. And I never responded back," my voice is cracking and I can feel my eyes becoming watery, "I wasn't in a good place after everything that happened here. And I was afraid if I let him in, I would be opening myself up to be hurt again. So I just didn't respond back. So last year came and went, and I had been in and out of hospital visits and preoccupied with my failing health to even realize that September 19th had come and gone and he hadn't reached out. The only time he didn't reach out before that was when he were in prison waiting for the trial..." I breathe in deeply and smile crookedly at Roy, "I think he assumes I have moved on past it, and maybe, I dunno, maybe that's for the best."

We sit here for a few moments, simply watching each other, before he nods at me and stands up, collecting my empty plate with him, "would you like a top up of your coffee?" he asks and I shake my head with a smile

"No, ta, but I'll take one to go, if it isn't a bother?"

"Of course it isn't," he says as he heads back around the counter

I gulp down the last of the coffee in my mug and stand up from the table, grabbing my purse and removing my wallet as I place the empty mug on the counter,

"Uhh that won't be necessary," Roy states and when I look up he is gesturing to the wallet in my hand, "on the house," he says placing the takeaway cup on the counter in front of me

I cock my head to the side and shake my head at him lovingly, "Roy-"

"No -no arguments, please," he admonishes me, his hand coming up as if to halt me, "or I shall withdraw from our plans for tomorrow evening..."

"That's blackmail," I state disappointedly

"Not quite,"

"It's emotional blackmail,"

"Yeess," he drawls out with his cheeky little smirk and I can't help but walk around the counter and place a soft kiss on his cheek before pulling him into a hug, one that he readily returns in his own typical Roy Cropper way.

I pull back slightly and smile at him, "thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "Not just for breakfast. I mean it, thank you for understanding..."

He nods as I make my way back around the counter and grasp the cup in my hand

"I'll bring you some lunch this afternoon," he states matter-of-factly, and I turn back to look at him

"Still looking out for me, eh?" I ask

He nods, "Always," he responds with so much sincerity it nearly breaks me. I fight back the tears I can feel building in my eyes, and I blow him a kiss as I leave the cafe.

Now, here I stand on Victoria Street, my takeaway coffee cup clutched in my hand, and I glance down to my watch, noting the time.

8:35 am.

_15 hours and 25 minutes to go..._


	4. Chapter 4: Carla (and Peter)

_**A/N: Thank you all for the incredibly kind reviews. **_

_**Please note that this chapter contains mentions of suicide and other mature subject matter. **_

_**Reader Discretion is advised.**_

* * *

I had tried to push aside the hurt I felt when he didn't ask me how I was.

...all day...

I knew he was just throwing his typical 'Peter Barlow' strop.

I mean, I were married to the man, after all. His ability to sulk for days was flamin' legendary 'round 'ere.

And that's what I kept telling myself when he made snide little digs today about how I had him well trained, how I 'were the boss' in the factory, and how I should be 'fine on me own' in the office.

In fact, he made it a point to avoid the office the whole day.

He made it a point to avoid _me._

I can't pretend that it didn't sting.

It really shouldn't have bothered me at all that he didn't ask me how I was, yesterday of all days, or today for that matter. After all, as I told Roy earlier today, **_it_** happened a long ago...

But as I stood there next to him - next to the man who had been my tower of strength through it all seven years ago - leaning on the bar of the Rovers, trying to apologize for pulling rank on the whole Vicky situation and trying unsuccessfully to coax him out of his sulking, I can't help but admit that it did. It hurt more than I had expected.

The kind of hurt I imagine being stabbed in the chest with a butcher knife would feel like.

And yet there he was, playing with a drink coaster absentmindedly, completely oblivious to the fact that he were the one holding that very knife...

I dunno, maybe I had just gotten better at wearing my mask after years of being away from him. Maybe I actually had him fooled this time around...

...or maybe he simply didn't care anymore.

I can't say I'd blame him for it.

I wish I could not care about it anymore. I keep aching for that day to arrive. A day I know in my heart will never come, but one I still ache for nonetheless.

Whatever the reason - whether me fooling him or him no longer caring - he remained oblivious to the internal fight I were going through as I struggled to remain upright and not collapse and curl up into as small of a fetal position as I could muster on the pub floor; an internal fight I had hidden behind extra layers of concealer and lippy today.

He remained oblivious. And I know in my heart that it is ultimately for the best.

After all, I would hate to still be a burden to him all these years later just as I had been back then...

And so there I stood in the pub, feeling horrible for acting like such an ingrate after all he had done for me back then; knowing how him standing by me seven years ago had almost cost him everything.

Not to mention all he'd done for me lately. Telling me he still cared about me as I lay in that hospital bed awaiting news on if Aidan was a suitable donor. Being there after Aidan's death and the whole Susie fiasco. Not to mention investing in Underworld last month. Literally coming to my rescue and allowing me the chance to take the reigns at the factory again and to make Aidan proud.

_Aidan..._

I wonder if _he_ would have been there for me this year. Rob and I never really talked about it. I knew Michelle had filled him in, but everytime he went to bring it up, he'd just cave; I knew it was because his temper would get the better of him. I could see it in my baby brother's eyes as he looked at me on September 19th 2013 and 2014. The guilt and anger he felt for not being there in the immediate aftermath...

But Aidan were different. He had found out what had happened to me, on September 19th 2015. He was at my flat that morning that I received Peter's bouquet of lilies and peonies.

He hadn't signed the card, but I knew it were him. He knew my favourite flowers. Nick and I were only in the early stages of dating; he didn't yet know any of those little tidbits about me at the time...but Peter did. Peter remembered.

Aidan of course saw me get incredibly emotional and as I placed the bouquet in a vase, he read the small inscription on the card and questioned why I were so upset. I tried to brush it off but he wouldn't let me. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow until I cracked,

_"Four years ago, I was raped..." _the words just spilled out of my mouth, and I somehow found myself telling him about everything - well almost everything. I didn't tell him about my chasing a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka

I remember him wrapping his arms around me and assuring me that everything was going to be alright. In those few moments I felt protected, a feeling I really only felt when Peter or Rob had held me. I remember thinking, as I sniffled against Aidan's shirt, how lucky Kate was to have him as a brother. And how I wished he were mine as well...

Who knew that wish would end up coming true...

Nick had walked in several minutes later after I had washed my face and fixed my makeup and questioned who the flowers were from. Of course he would have, they were stunningly simple and yet gorgeous.

_"Oh, they're from me," _Aidan had spoken up, tucking the card into the bouquet,_ "to say how proud I am of her, you know..." _he motioned a bit with his head and that was when the penny had dropped for Nick...

Aidan called me on September 19th for the past two years. Both times he let me know that we didn't have to talk about_ it_. He just wanted to hear my voice and know I were okay. Last year, I hadn't realized what had happened between him and Eva and the factory. I didn't hear about it till weeks later from 'Chelle. Aidan had hid his feelings well from me. He had just been on the phone with me, as if his heart hadn't been shattered into thousands of pieces; only wanting to make sure that_ I_ were okay.

I wonder if that's when things really started to set in for him. When he started to feel like he had fallen down a deep, dark well with no hope of ever climbing out...

I certainly knew that feeling.

I wonder if he knew just how far I almost went to end my suffering - twice -, to know the pain it would have caused those who loved me had I succeeded, if he would have reached out and talked to me before he did what he did this year...

I shuddered as I tried not to think of my half brother; knowing that once those floodgates opened, I'd be lost again...and so I mindlessly engaged in a quick chat with Gina about Sally, as I tried to take my mind off the agony of wanting my half brother to walk through them pub doors with his cheeky grin like nothing happened earlier this year.

As Gina stepped away from the bar, there we were: just myself and Peter again. And as all the guilt kept rising in me about all he had done for me these past few months, I found myself trying to apologize to him, to try to get us back to how we were just days ago...

"No it's fine, I'm over it. When it comes to the factory I bow to your superior knowledge," he mumbled sarcastically.

Man still knows how to take his pound of flesh, I'll give him that.

"So one minute you're dead annoyed, the next minute you're fine," I stated the obvious, "I don't buy that!"

"Yeah it's just that I've got other things on me mind, that's all." He said distantly, and I found myself becoming increasingly concerned about my former stepson.

"What, Simon?" I had prodded gently,

"No, not Simon for once, no," he answered abruptly, and just like that I were confused again, "Sorry, look, got to go..." he said and then walked right past me.

"I thought we were having a drink?" I said, trying to keep out the disappointment in my voice out and failing miserably. He ignored me, continuing to look at his phone as he headed out the pub, "Hey?!" I tried one last time but to no avail.

I leaned my elbow on the bar and rested my chin on my hand, quietly admonishing myself for all the emotions that swirled around me. I can't believe I tried to make it up to him when he were in one of his moods.

Yeah. I really should have known better.

I should know by now that the only way I ever coaxed him out of those kind of moods in the past was through sex, and that was definitely not going to happen...

..._not today, at least_..

I tapped my fingers anxiously on the base of my wine glass, trying to rid myself of the thoughts that have plagued me since I ran into him outside Roy's on Boxing Day. The ones that re-ignited when I kissed him at the factory last month after breaking down in his embrace. The thoughts that traced a line right down straight through my heart and into the pit of my stomach. The sensation palpitating like a butterfly's constant fluttering of its wings that made me feel rather sick...

I stood at the bar for another few minutes, polishing off my drink, when I heard a punter acknowledge another,

"Hey Frank! Over here!" He had stated loudly and I found myself looking to this 'Frank' to remind myself it wasn't the same man, but it didn't stop what I feared would happen next.

I suddenly felt constricted. Felt the air being almost squeezed out of me. I felt my chest flush hotly, and the black shirt I wore seemed to cling to me uncomfortably. I needed to get out of there...

Saying a quick bye to Johnny, I grabbed my bag and pushed myself out of the pub. As soon as the air hit me, I breathed in a deep breath, my eyes closing as I had tried to quell the tears that pricked the corners of my eyes, and I suddenly feel a chill rush down my spine.

I could smell cigarette smoke, I could literally feel him nearby.

Not wanting him to see me on the brink of the anxiety attack that had started to fester inside the pub, I opened my eyes and refuse to turn around. I had only taken a few steps towards Victoria Street when I heard him call out to me,

"Carla!"

I took a steadying breath and turned to face him. His face dropped to one of concern as he approached me, and it looked like he had a flicker of guilt dance across his eyes

"Look, I'm- I'm sorry about rushing out earlier," he said and I again felt a pang of disappointment that he believes that is what I was hurting over...,

"It's fine, Peter," I say as steadily as I can, hoping he buys it.

He doesn't.

"Uhh, look let me make it up to you, let's go back inside and I'll buy this round, yeah?" He says, gesturing back towards the pub.

"Umm, no thanks, I need to be getting back off home," I answered, gesturing over my shoulder with my thumb and walking backwards to ensure I maintained the distance between us, "Roy'll be wonderin' where I am..."

He furrowed his brow at me, "are you sure?"

"Positive!" I responded and offer him the biggest smile I could muster, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" And with that I walk off without a further glance in his direction

"Yeah," I had heard him say, "see you..."

I, of course, didn't go to Roy's. Instead making my way to Costa Coffee as I dialled for a cab, that was deliberately not from Streetcars, to take me to the hotel.

And that's where I find myself now. Sitting in as hot a bath as my skin could take. As the tub had filled I undressed and stood in front of the mirror, my eyes counting all the bruises that littered my skin; the dried blood from the scratches between my thighs; the purpling bruises that marred my legs, my arms, my shoulder and my wrists all reflecting back to me as clear as though I were seeing it in HD quality. As my eyes had begun to cloud over with the tears that filled them, I shakily brought my left arm up to my sightline, the fingers of my right hand gingerly stroking the skin of my wrist, and I note that I can see nothing there. No bruises, no fingernail marks...nothing. I glance back to the mirror, the image of me battered and bruised replaced with just me, as I am now: seven years older, and unmarked - at least to the naked eye.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped into the bath where I proceeded on my annual tradition of scrubbing my skin nearly raw through the tears and sobs I could never seem to hold at bay, before I collapsed against the back of the tub, accepting the fact that I will never be free of washing his touch off of me...

I reckon I must have been sitting here for at least half an hour. I decide its time to get out and I splash some water over my face and head, my hair getting slightly wet from the motion, before I pull the plug from the drain and step out of the tub. I pat myself dry, apply moisturizer to my body, and slip on a pair of knickers before wrapping myself in the hotel's provided fluffy white robe. I unwrap my hair from the clip I had secured it in, and use the towel to squeeze out any of the residual moisture and then I freeze-

Someone has knocked on my door.

I feel myself panic a bit. No one but Roy knows I'm here, after all.

Garnering up the courage I slowly approach the door and peek through the peephole, sighing with a slight relief as I see who it is.

Upon opening the door, I lean against the frame and sigh, "Roy..." I whisper and he nods

"Don't be cross with him," Peter says, "I didn't give him much choice..."

I look away from him and exhale a rather shaky breath; I simply don't have the energy to fight with him right now, "look, Peter, if you've come 'ere to 'ave a go at me-"

"I haven't," he interrupts me, his voice low and calm

I sigh again, "then why are you here?"

"I came to give you this," He pulls his arm out from behind his back and gently thrusts a bouquet of flowers towards me, "to let you know I'm thinking about you, and that I'm still so proud of you..."

My eyes fall to the lilies, and I can feel the tears begin to build in my eyes as I slowly take them from his hand, "I uhh, wasn't able to get the peonies on such short notice, them being out of season and all," he rambles on nervously, "but I made sure I went to three florists before I found the right lilies..."

"Only three?" I question jokingly with a sniffle,

"Yeah, the cabbie weren't all that impressed. Just told me to get some roses and be done with it. And I told him that if he knew you, he would understand why I would go to a hundred florists to get the right flowers."

"Cheesy..." I chuckle, my eyes still glued on the lilies

"But truthful..." he whispers, and I feel him tuck my hair behind my ear, and it is only then that I finally look back into his eyes.

I exhale once more; and I try to bite my now trembling lower lip in a bid to get it to stop.

I feel the tears that had filled my eyes slowly begin to trickle down my cheeks,

I can't do it. I can't pretend anymore...

"Peter..." I whisper shakily

In an instant I am gathered into his embrace, feel my arms wrap around him as he cradles my head in his hand, "It's okay," he hushes me almost lovingly, "shhh, I'm here now."

* * *

After ushering him into the room, I had changed into a pair of trackpants and a vest, as Peter insisted on ordering up room service. He knew I hadn't eaten dinner and had assured me he hadn't either and was starving himself.

We didn't speak much as we waited for the food. Simply put on the telly as background noise and made small talk about some reality show that was on. When the food arrived we ate in companionable silence, and as he went to place the now empty plates on the tray in the hallway, I sat back on the bed, my fingers playing with the lilies on the bedside table.

It's where I find myself now, watching him as he walks back into the room and goes to sit in one of the chairs again,

"Peter?" I call to him, and he looks up at me. I offer him a small smile and pat the duvet next to me.

He doesn't say anything, but smiles back at me before kicking off his shoes and sliding onto the bed next to me.

He lifts his arm and like a magnet I fall against him and tuck right in to his side. All these years later, and I still feel so safe here...

"I'm so sorry Carla," he whispers as he presses a kiss upon my head, his hand gently stroking my hair, "I can't believe I forgot this year..."

"Peter, please don't apologize," I say quietly, my face pressing tighter into his chest, "Like I said to Roy, it's not your burden - neither of you - it's mine and mine alone."

"That doesn't mean you have to go through it on your own,"

"I don't want to be your burden anymore..." I sniff

"A burden?" he pushes me away from his chest so that I am sitting upright; his hands are placed softly on my shoulders and he gives me a small shake, "you were never a burden to me, and you never will be. Carla, you must know that by now."

"I can't help but feel it, Peter," my eyes finally meet his and I am taken in by the softness that resides there

He exhales and pulls me back into him, shuffling down so we're in a semi-reclined position, and he continues to stroke my hair with one hand, while the other plays with my fingers as they rest upon his chest.

"I wish I could take your pain away, Car," he whispers and I feel my heart flutter, "I wish I could go back in time and stop it from having ever happened to you,"

"It's getting better, Peter," I respond truthfully "slowly but surely it's getting easier..."

"But this hasn't stopped, has it?" he asks gently, his fingers brushing along the almost burn-like, red marks I've left on my wrist from the scrubbing I had inflicted on myself earlier, "although at least you're not breaking the skin anymore..."

"I can't stop myself. I still feel him on me..." I whisper, "his fingers, his hands, his breath on me, his..." I trail off, my fingers grabbing a hold of Peter's shirt as I begin to shake, and I silently will the tears to stop falling

He goes silent, hugging me ever closer to him and kissing the top of my head repeatedly as his hand travels soothingly up and down my back.

We must be laying like this for quite some time. I feel the tears that have dripped all over his shirt leaving a damp stain and I slowly shift,

"I'm sorry, I've soaked your shirt," I say, trying to pull away but he's having none of it and wraps his arms around me tighter until I fall back onto his chest.

"I'll take it off later," he says, "that is, if you want me to stay with you tonight?"

"Won't Simon be missing you?" I ask

I feel him shake his head, "He's at Lea's tonight," He answers

"What about your dad?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he pokes me in the ribs and I can't help the giggle that comes out

"No," I assure him,

"I'm sure my dad will be fine. I'm 53 years old after all. I think I can manage a night away without asking permission,"

"I forgot you're that much older than me..."

"Oi," he walks his fingers up my back and I tense playfully, knowing what he's about to do, "not old enough to still tickle an answer out of you," he whispers before beginning to tickle the sensitive spot on my ribs

I squirm against him and I laugh - God, it feels so good to laugh - "Okay, okay! Yes!" I breathe out sporadically

"Yes what?" he asks and stops his ticklish onslaught

I slowly raise my eyes to his, resting my chin on my hand upon his chest, "please stay..." I whisper, feeling the tears starting to spring back

"Oh love," he presses his lips to my forehead and caresses my hair as I lay my head back down

We lay in silence for a few minutes before he speaks, "you know, I heard that our body replaces itself with a largely new set of cells every seven years..."

I scrunch up my face, my fingers playing idly with the buttons on his shirt, "I thought that were a myth?"

He shrugs and I instinctively tuck in closer to him, "Even if it were, it's pretty nice symbolism, isn't it?"

I raise my head and rest my chin on my hand again, "so what you're saying is, if this were true, that every cell in my body is replaced every seven years," at his nod, I continue, "I theoretically will have a body that Frank has never touched?"

He smiled lopsided at me, and kissed my forehead once more, "Myth or not, that's gotta sound encouraging..."

I let the thought of it sink in before nodding, "it does," I say, "it really does..." I sigh, "except, it hasn't been seven years since he last touched me, has it? He kept brushing up against me in the factory after the trial, and he tried to rape me again on that night he were killed..." my eyes dropped as a shiver ran through me.

He doesn't respond for a minute, simply continues to soothingly rub my back, "How's about we make a plan:" he suddenly says rather excitably, and I can't help but smile at him as he continues, "How's about this time next year, we drive out to the lake district-"

"The lake district?" I interrupt with a chuckle

"Let me finish, snobby pants!" he pokes me, "We drive to the lake district and we take one of them Chinese sky lanterns with us. Then you can light it, and release it as a way to celebrate the seven years then..."

I exhale as I mull this plan over in my mind, "bit presumptuous innit?" I grin at him, "I mean, how do you know that I'll still be talking to you at that time, Barlow?"

"I'll make sure of it..." he grins back at me

"And how do you know we won't have endured some new crisis or other by that point?"

"Are you expecting us too?"

"I mean they do tend to find us, Peter..."

He laughs and I can't help but join in, and he presses a soft kiss to my forehead and temple before encouraging me to lay my head down upon his chest again, "well, I'd like to think that no matter what crisis befalls us, that we'll be able to get through it together. Come out the other end stronger..."

"You are very optimistic,"

"You bring it out in me..."

I smile against his chest, "Okay," I respond

"Is it a date then?" he asks

"It's a date, Barlow."

I snuggle further into his embrace, feeling him running his fingers through my hair, and after a while I feel my eyelids start to droop.

"Peter?" I yawn

"Yeah, love?" he whispers

"You remember what you said to me that night in the factory? After we got the keys from Alya?"

I feel him shift slightly, "yeah," he responds almost apprehensively and I feel him swallow hard,

"Well, I should have told you this more often, but you were the best thing that's ever happened to me, and all..." I say, feeling him hug me closer to him and I slowly start to drift off into what I feel will finally be a nightmare-free sleep...

"But Peter?"

"Yes?"

"We're still just business partners..."

* * *

_**A/N: If there's enough interest, I can try to write the follow-up chapter to this and post it on September 19th 2019**_


	5. Chapter 5: Roy

**September 19th 2019**

'_They say we can't help who we love, and on that basis, I pity you...'_

_'ummm, but what about your sleepwalking? I-it's not safe for you to live on your own?'_

_"I think we've already established that I'm no safer living with you.'_

_'you're not trying to help me, you're helping Kate! You were in on it all along!'_

_"I need to get out of here-'_

_'no-no I cannot allow tha-'_

_'Roy I need to get out!'_

_'Carla you are not well, you need help'_

_'You lied'_

_'You need help...'_

_'You keep away from me, Roy! You stay away from me!'_

_'What I find most incomprehensible is the lying! lies upon lies -'_

_'I'm s-sorry Roy, please...don't-'_

_'A young woman is dead, Carla. And all you and he seem to care about is abrogating all responsibility!'_

_'Peter, please don't leave me with him...'_

_'i should have never thrown her out. And I won't forgive myself...'_

_'Would you stay here, with me?'_

_'Of course I will'_

_'Can I trust you Roy?'_

_'You came here because you feel safe. I promise I will take care of you.'_

_'I will never forgive you for this!'_

_'But know this: I am bitterly disappointed in you!'_

I wish I could have forgotten the harsh words I used this year towards her as easily as I forgot this day last year. But my memory, aging that it may be, is still as sharp as it ever was.

The words roll about my head as I pour the liquid from the French press into the mug, adding a bit more milk before giving it a stir as I hear her pull out the chair at the table.

I place the mug in front of her, "Ta, Roy," she gestures to the coffee I had made her, and the toast I had already placed on the table before she emerged from the bedroom with her overnight bag

"What time are you expecting Peter?" I ask, taking a seat across from her with my own cup

"He should be here soon. We're taking my car up and he wanted to get an early dart so he could do a bit of shopping at Freshco's first, and then fill up the tank."

My mug pauses on its way to my mouth "Wi-will you be driving then?" I ask apprehensively

She eyes me carefully over the rim of her cup, "Scott says he sees no reason why I shouldn't..."

She has a glint in her eye as she continues to hold my gaze and takes a sip her coffee. I twitch my lips uncomfortably. Normally, I'd be able to detect her glibness, in a conversation like this. But this time I can't tell if she's playing with me. I have sadly lost some of my ability to read her due to our strenuous relationship this past year...

I decide to play it safe in my response, "Of-of course you _should_ be able to continue back into your normal routine, Carla-"

"But-" she interrupts me snidely as she spreads some butter on a piece of toast

"But," I choose my words carefully, "well, forgive me but you were never one to find driving, ummm-"

"Oh just spit it out Roy," she chirps, scooping some jam onto the bread

"You have road rage Carla,"

"I do not!" she states defensively, her eyes raising from her plate to my own

"You shout at people-"

"I merely express myself categorically and powerfully," she shrugs nonchalantly

I raise an eyebrow at her retort, "You speed-"

"I arrive where I'm going efficiently and in a timely fashion-" she quips back before taking a bite of toast with a smirk playing about her lips and I can't help but feel a bit impressed

I try for one last one, "You-"

She shakes her head and holds her hands up in mock surrender, "Oh, stop fussing Roy. I know Scott only meant short distances like to the shops or to town. I know I'm not in the right headspace yet for a long haul. Peter's in charge of the driving and I'm in charge of the sweets n' tunes, satisfied?" she raises her eyebrows at me and takes another bite of her toast

"Honestly? Yes..." I smile crookedly at her and she chuckles, "How are you feeling..." I prod rather carefully, "today?"

She swallows and nods slowly, "umm, yeah, I'm okay," she answers softly, her hand coming up to scratch an itch on the side of her nose, "I mean, I've come to terms more with the news on Sinead. I've talked to my psychologist about it," she raises her mug to take another sip of her coffee

"That's good to hear," I say with a nod, "but I wasn't referring to the news about Sinead..."

She licks her lips as she lowers her cup, and she looks anywhere but at me, "eight years..." she whispers, almost as if forgetting that I'm here across from her, "eight years and it still feels all a bit unreal sometimes..." I watch as she puts up her defences again right before my very eyes; she sits up a little straighter in her chair, clears her throat and focuses a little too much on the toast that is on her plate, "Anyhow, there are people suffering a lot worse things in the here and now than to worry about me having some uncomfortable reminders of something that happened eight years ago..."

"You're doing it again..." I chide her

"Doing what, Roy?" She asks with a sigh as she takes another bite of toast and being deliberately obtuse

"Brushing off your suffering and past trauma as unimportant."

"In the grand scheme of things they are."

"I beg to differ..."

"Oh, well I am shocked," she mutters, but I ignore her

"It is not right to pass off the hurt or suffering you experience as minor because someone else may be theoretically going through something more traumatic," I state before leaning forward, "and if I may be so bold-"

"When aren't you..."

"Always pushing down your feelings for everyone else's sake was arguably a massive contributor to your psychosis this year..."

Her hand paused as it reached for her mug, and she raised her eyes to mine. We sit here for a minute or so, simply holding each other's gaze. I watch as her eyes brim with tears before she finally speaks, "I can't help it, Roy," she whispers, "I've always been this way..."

"It's never too late to change, Carla," I reach my hand tentatively out to hers, placing it rather delicately upon hers. She lowers her eyes to them and I see a small smile tug at her lips before she sniffles and pulls it away, reaching instead for her mug and I can't help but feel a bit hurt. This time last year she would have never pulled away from me, physically or emotionally; but this year everything has changed. Everything changed since the day mother died and my sleepwalking began again...

"Besides," she continues, "isn't that how the saying goes: if we all threw our problems into a big pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back?"

I nod, "possibly, but I don't believe in such nonsensical sayings myself," she looks questioningly at me and I explain further, "the misfortunes of one shouldn't invalidate the misfortunes of another. This is why illnesses relating to mental health are so often overlooked: because as a society we have been trained to always push down our own suffering as 'not as important', because there's always the guilt that 'someone has it worse'. And so people suffer in silence until it reaches a point where they cannot suffer any longer and find a way to end the pain either by finally seeking help..." I lower my voice, "or not..."

I see her lower her eyes as she swallows. I know she may be thinking of Aidan, but I am really referring to several months ago. Back to May and that moment on the fire escape when the woman I have come to love as a daughter tried to throw herself over the rails, while myself, Johnny, Kate and Michelle all watched below. She was stopped only by Peter as he held gripped her tightly to him, while I attempted to look away, unable to bring myself to watch as another loved one took their own life before my very eyes. But from what I feared would be her last moments with us, I looked back up in time to see her struggling against Peter's grip; her leg shaking as she tried again to throw herself over only to be halted again by the man who, I categorically believe, loves her with every fibre of his being, and I gave a sigh of relief and gratitude.

As I watch her now I see her struggling to take in my words, so I try a different approach, "Th-think about it like this, Carla," I begin softly, "imagine a couple on their wedding day: happy, arguably blissfully so...would you ever say to them, 'you know, you shouldn't be so happy because someone always has it better than you?'"

"What? no," she shakes her head almost incredulously, "no, of course not,"

"No. So then why we do we believe our happiness is more validated than anyone else's but our suffering is invalidated?"

She meets my gaze and sighs, a lopsided smile appearing on her face, "how do you do that?"

"D-do what?" I ask curiously

"See things so vividly, so logically?"

"Per-perhaps, it is my purpose," I answer, "to bring a bit of logic into a constantly emotionally-beaten down world."

"Maybe," she said softly, "or maybe you're our compass..." She smiles at me, and probably for the first time since the Whatsapp group debacle, I see the love back in her eyes when she looks at me. We are interrupted by a knock on the flat door and she jumps a bit at the sound before collecting herself,

"That's probably Pe'er," she states as she rises from her chair and goes to the door

I hear him greet her and place what I assume is a gentle kiss upon her lips before he makes his way into the flat,

"Hiya Roy," he greets me and I smile back,

"Hello," I rise, "wo-would you like a coffee?"

He uses his thumb to gesture over his shoulder, "Oh thanks Roy, but umm actually Shona's offered to make us a couple to-go, along with some bacon butties," he smiles before placing a hand on Carla's shoulder, "you just about ready to go, love?"

She nods, "yeah, I just need the loo for a minute and I'll be ready to go."

"Okay," he places a soft kiss on her forehead and winks at her as she shuffles off to the bathroom. He turns to look at me and gestures towards her, "How is she this morning?" he asks

"Very Carla-like," I respond, "deflective,"

"Ahh," he nods, placing his hands on his hips, "right. Well hopefully this night away to the lakes will do her some good."

"I-I have to say, that I think it is a lovely idea you had last year," I say as I place the mugs and plates in the sink, "I'm very happy that you two are able to follow through with it today."

"So am I, to be honest with you Roy," he sighs, "for a while there I didn't think we'd make it here..."

I nod somberly, "I was thinking earlier of all the things I said to her this year. The way I kicked her out when she was at her lowest...I sometimes worry that we may never get back to the relationship we once had..."

"You will," he says confidently, placing a hand on my shoulder, "and it will be stronger than before," I know I must look apprehensive and he continues, "she still sees you like her dad you know. Moreso than Johnny, I'd say. And sometimes, fathers get disappointed in their kids. Have to give them a bit of tough love, doesn't mean you love them any less. She knows that. And she loves you for it. She just needs some more time..."

"I see her as a daughter," I hear myself saying aloud, I had only ever hinted that to Carla in so many words earlier this year when I had gifted her with a brooch that belonged to my mother, "and I hope that she knows that, that deep down, I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally."

"She knows, Roy," he smiles and gives my shoulder a squeeze that nearly throws me off balance, "trust me."

Carla emerges from the bathroom, and Peter lowers his hand from my shoulder and turns to face her, "so love," he asks her, "did you manage to find them lanterns?"

"Oh," she says, scratching her head a bit, "actually Peter, there's a small change of plan,"

"How'd you mean?" he shakes his head in confusion

She gestures towards me, "Well, Roy and I were watching a documentary earlier this year, you know...before the boat fire," she swallows uncomfortably, "and it was about fires in nature and stuff, and umm apparently them lanterns actually cause quite a bit of damage to trees and forests and stuff because they often get caught in the branches..." she rambled on rather awkwardly, as she rifled through a small carrier bag, "so I umm, I found these online," she holds up a package, "they're water lanterns, umm waterproof, flame-proof," she looks at me directly and hands me the package to look over, "oh, and 100% bio-degradable."

Peter and I look at each other for a minute. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, and I turn back to Carla who stands eyeing me as if waiting for my approval, "I-I didn't think you were even paying attention to that documentary," I say, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my lips, "but this is fantastic, Carla. Very innovative an-and environmentally conscious," I hand her back the package and she beams, "Hayley would be proud."

That did it.

Her eyes pricked with tears for just a moment before she nodded and turned her back to us to place the package back in the carrier bag, attempting to shield the moment her fingers came up to brush away the tears that obviously trailed down her face, "right," she stated, her back straightening, and turning back to face us as she picked up her bags, only to have Peter step forward and take them from her grasp, "well I guess that's us off then?"

I step forward and tentatively wrap my arms around her, feeling a bit more confident in my awkward hugging skills when I feel her wrap her arms around me as well, "have a wonderful time," I say as I step back, "drive safely". She nods and smiles and follows Peter towards the flat door, before stopping and turning to face me

"Oh, I forgot my jacket, could you grab it for us, please?" she asks me kindly and I move towards the coat rack,

"Which one?"

"The thinner black one, with the sleeves rolled up," she instructs and I pluck it from the hook and hand it to her, she smiles and leans forward to plant a kiss on my cheek, "thank you. We'll call when we get there."

I stand there for a few minutes after she heads down to the cafe, suddenly feeling the emptiness again in the flat, before grabbing my pinny and making my way down as well. Carla is having a short conversation with Shona and Aggie, and Peter walks back in from loading the car with her bags, as I close my flat door and step behind the counter.

She offers me one more kind smile before taking the bacon butties and handing Peter the coffees, and as she steps back and waves goodbye to me, I find myself frozen to the spot but smiling possibly wider than I have in over a year.

There, pinned to the jacket she had asked for upstairs and since put on, was my mother's brooch...


	6. Chapter 6: Peter

I can't help but glance over to her as we drive to the lakes. She seems content, dare I say even a bit happy.

I think back to our conversation last year when I suggested this idea to her;

_She raised her head and rested her chin on her hand again as she thought over what I had just told her, "so what you're saying is - if this were true - that if every cell in my body is replaced every seven years," at my nod, she continues, "I theoretically will have a body that Frank has never touched?"_

_I kiss her forehead once more, "Myth or not, that's gotta sound encouraging..."_

_"It does," she says with a nod, "it really does..." but then she sighs rather defeatedly, "except, it hasn't been seven years since he last touched me, has it? He kept brushing up against me in the factory after the trial, and he tried to rape me again on that night he were killed..." I feel her shiver against me, and I can't help but kick myself for getting myself into such a drunken state that I was unable to protect her that night..._

_I don't respond for a minute, simply continuing to soothingly rub her back when an idea flashes into my mind,"How's about we make a plan:" I say rather excitably, and she can't help but smile at me as I continue, "How's about this time next year, we drive out to the lake district-"_

_"The lake district?" she interrupts with a chuckle_

_"Let me finish, snobby pants!" I poke her playfully, "We drive to the lake district and we take one of them Chinese sky lanterns with us. Then you can light it, and release it as a way to celebrate the seven years then..."_

_I can see her mulling this plan over in her mind as she exhales, "bit presumptuous innit?" she grins at me, "I mean, how do you know that I'll still be talking to you at that time, Barlow?"_

_"I'll make sure of it..." I grin back at her_

_"And how do you know we won't have endured some new crisis or other by that point?"_

_"Are you expecting us too?"_

_"I mean they do tend to find us, Peter..."_

_I laugh and she can't help but join in, and I press a soft kiss to her forehead and temple before encouraging her to lay her head down on my chest again, "well, I'd like to think that no matter what crisis befalls us, that we'll be able to get through it together. Come out the other end stronger..."_

_"You are very optimistic,"_

_I smile, "You bring it out in me..."_

I think back to everything that happened to us since this time last year; how she had accurately predicted yet another crisis would befall us, and I can't help but mull over all we've been through since we came into each other's orbits. As if by instinct, I reach over and grasp her hand in mine, raising it to my lips and planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. I turn to look at her and she is smiling at me.

A real, genuine smile.

I've missed those. I ached for them since our split five years ago; probably more than I'm willing to admit out loud...

"I helped pick that out you know," I say and she looks quizzically at me

"Helped pick what out?"

I gesture to the brooch she has pinned to her jacket, "Roy came to me and asked for my opinion on which one you would 'find most desirable' - his words, not mine." I chuckle and she smiles, raising her eyebrow playfully

"Didn't take you for a brooch expert, Barlow" she quips

"Oh, that I am not," I laugh, "but I am an expert on you..." I kiss her hand again and I see a slight blush rise to her cheeks before she runs her tongue along her lower lip and then bites her lip as she turns to look out the window again

"And here I thought I managed to surprise you all over again this year..." she says, an airiness to her voice that I know is her way of trying to make light of the serious situation we found ourselves in earlier this year.

"You always do," I respond back seriously, "but if I can ask you not to do it quite so dramatically next time, I'd really appreciate it," I add cheekily and she laughs.

She laughs that 'Carla laugh' that is so genuine; releasing itself from her lips before she has the chance to try to stifle it. It's music to my ears.

Speaking of music... "You don't have to listen to this stuff for me you know," I tell her as another Sinatra song plays through the speakers, "you're in charge of the music, put on something a bit more upbeat,"

"Aye, aye, captain." she mock salutes me

"Careful now," I warn her, "anymore talk like that and I may just pop us into the next lay-by I find..."

"Don't you dare!" she chides me as she presses the buttons on the radio, "I know I teased we would be quite some time the last time, but even I was shocked at how long we stayed there. I'm surprised no one put out a missing persons call for us..."

"Least they could have done was send some energy bars. You wore me out, Connor..." I poke her in the ribs and she swats my hand away

"Well you do have some remarkable stamina for a man of your age..." she chuckles, playfully slapping my cheek, before scrolling through a few more stations and settling on one, "hey speaking of energy, do you mind if I open one of them chocolates? I've been eyeing them since we finished our butties an hour ago," she asks rather sheepishly

"You are in charge madame," I respond, "as long as I get a bite,"

"Of what?" she asks seductively and I find my eyes travelling up and down her body as she bites her lip and grins

"Don't tempt me..."

* * *

"Should be at the hotel in about half an hour, love," I say as she nods, popping open the bottle of water and taking a sip.

"That's good," she says, "Maybe we can go pop into the town for a bit of a walk first? I'd really like to stretch my legs a bit."

_'There's a fire starting in my heart. _

_Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark...'_

"That's a good idea, maybe we can have a pub lunch as well afterwards, what do you reckon?" I say as I change lanes to pass a slower car in front of me, chuckling to myself as I imagine that choice words Carla may have had for them had she been driving.

_'See how I leave with every piece of you_

_Don't underestimate the things that I will do...'_

Noticing her lack of response, I turn my head slightly to look at her, and I suddenly feel my heart drop. She is sitting rigidly in her seat, her body trembling and her eyes squeezed closed, her breathing coming in short bursts and I find myself reaching over and placing a hand on her shoulder, my head constantly darting back to keep an eye on the road

"Carla?" I try, giving her shoulder a small shake, "hey, what's wrong?"

_'The scars of your love remind me of us_

_they keep me thinking that we almost had it all...'_

"Car?" I try once more, and her eyes pop open, her fingers quickly pressing the buttons on the radio erratically and in a panic before managing to change the station. She leans back, trying to catch her breath and I lower the volume on the radio entirely

"Hey, you okay?" I ask gently, my hand placing itself comfortingly on her thigh and she jumps at my touch.

"Can you-ummm, c-can you stop the car, please?" she breathes out

"Okay," I place both hands back on the steering wheel and nod, seeing, just by sheer luck, a lay-by up ahead and I signal and pull off. No sooner have I parked the car up a small ways in and turning off the ignition, that her seat belt is off in a flash and she is out of the car. I swiftly follow, coming around to the passenger side as she leans her backside against the car, bending over, and placing her hands on her knees as she struggles to control her breathing. I can do nothing but gently rub circles on her back and wait for it to pass.

The moment she straightens up, her body leaning back against the car and running her hands through her hair while she exhales deeply is when I move to stand in front of her, my hand cupping her cheek, "hey," I prod encouragingly, "talk to me..."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, sounding ashamed and she looks anywhere but my eyes.

I stroke her cheek with my thumb, bringing my other hand up and placing it on the back of her neck, "hey, don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

I admonish myself as soon as the words leave my lips, closing my eyes and lowering my head, "sorry," I whisper, "I shouldn't have said that..."

"I know," she says softly, leaning forward and planting a kiss on top of my head, "it's okay,"

I raise my eyes back to hers, my thumb brushing against her cheek once more and I shake my head lovingly at her. I'm still amazed by her ability to try to comfort me when it should be the other way around...

"What happened, Carla?" I ask and she exhales deeply and closes her eyes

"It's that song," she starts, "it's the song that was playing the first time Frank and I-" she folds her arms across her chest, "-the first time we slept together."

I nod, encouraging her to continue, which thankfully, she does, "I never really thought much of it back then, I mean it were just a song really," she looks just beyond me, trying to avert my eyes at any cost

"What changed?" I ask

She takes a deep breath, "it was late 2014, you know, after everything with Rob going to prison, and Sally just came bursting into my office and asked if she could sit down. She looked really pale and she told me that she couldn't listen to _that_ song," she finally looks at me and shrugs, "it were playing on the radio in the factory see, and she hadn't heard it for years and she suddenly started panicking. She told me it was bringing back all kinds of uncomfortable memories of Frank. I could see it was, so I dismissed everyone for lunch and she and I just sat in the office and talked. She told me he used to play that song when they were-" she swallows almost painfully, "-getting together, and even before that, she'd catch him the office at his factory just sitting and listening to it. It was also the song that was playing the night he was hooking up with Jenny when Sally stormed in. She had asked him once why he seemed to love that song so much and he said that it reminded him of a moment when he was so deliriously happy; and he wanted to live in that memory forever..."

I watch as she struggles to hold it together, her lips pressing together as she tries to stop the tears from brimming in her eyes and I comfortingly run my hand down her hair.

"...it were only after Sally composed herself and left the office, that I just sat there thinking of all the times he played that song during our relationship, including in the office after the trial, when it were just me and him..." she shudders slightly before locking her gaze on me and shaking her head, "I never clued into it then, but after that day in my office with Sal, I never really listened to that song again. Anytime it came on the radio in the car or at home, I just quickly changed it. Didn't even think about it, just instinct. If it were on somewhere while I was out, I just tried to tune it out as best I could. I mean, I couldn't let a song dictate my life after all. But hearing it now, today..." she shrugs almost defeatedly, "I guess I'm not strong enough anymore..."

"Hey," I place my arm around her waist and press my body against hers, "you are strong, love," I assure her, "But you know what Scott said: while you're in recovery, there are going to be times that something is going to trigger a painful memory that you've been suppressing from the past. And love, I know it's uncomfortable but maybe that's a good thing: because it means it's actually making you face it instead of just pushing it down and locking it away."

She nods, and lowers her head, her eyes filling with tears and she sniffles, "he really loved me, Peter-"

"No," I shake my head my hand cupping the back of her neck firmly as my arm tightens around her waist, "no Carla, that wasn't love," I shake my head as I try to find the right words, "maybe he thought it was, but it wasn't. No matter what happens in a relationship or at the end of one, you don't do _that_ to someone you love."

"But he were so hurt, Peter," she raises her eyes to look into mine, the tears lining her eyes but not falling, "I didn't mean to, I never wanted to hurt him-"

"Hey," I cup both sides of her face, "Carla you can't still be thinking this was your fault?" I ask incredulously, but as she lowers her eyes from mine, it hits me that she does. "oh love," I sigh and pull her in close for a hug, feeling her wrap her arms around me tightly, and I sway with her on the spot, "It wasn't your fault, Carla. And I will tell you that everyday until you believe it, and I'm sorry I ever stopped telling you. I'm sorry I believed you had somehow moved on past it or learned to deal with it, when I should have known that you hadn't. How could you have, eh? You never had time to process it before another crisis came toppling down on you."

"I hate this, Peter," she whispers into my shoulder, "just when I think I'm moving on, it all comes back to me."

"And it may still love," I tell her truthfully, pulling back from her and tipping her chin up with my forefinger, "but maybe today we can actively try to move on with it, instead of trying to leave it behind."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, maybe trying to bury it is what makes it keep sprouting up again when you least expect it. Maybe we need to understand that sometimes it'll just be there, like those headaches you get every now and again: painful, irritating, draining, but manageable. And when it pops up, we deal with it as it happens and not let it fester. I mean you may not feel like you're progressing but you are. I mean, look," I brush my thumb along her dry cheeks, "You may have been getting teary there, but you haven't shed one yet. And you shouldn't for him, ever. So you see, progress?"

She nods slowly, her eyes looking back towards the road, "yeah, progress," she repeats sounding a bit more reassured.

I watch her for a few minutes, not wanting to push her before she's ready, and I see a smile begin to tug at her lips, "what?" I ask, her smile becoming contagious

"You," she says looking back at me with a playful glint in her eye, "you really are my rock aren't you?"

I could get sentimental here. Tell her something cheesy but truthful like, I love her to the depths of my soul and that the thought of life without her is unbearable.

But I know I don't have to.

She already knows.

And so I decide to go with playful, "and you madam are insatiable,"

"Eh?" she scoffs curiously and I dramatically gesture about me

"I mean, any excuse to get me in a lay-by!"

She does it again, her 'Carla laugh,' and I laugh along with her as she pats my chest and pushes me away from her, "after the cramp I got in me thigh the last time, I don't think so mister!" She leans forward and wraps her arms about my neck, "especially not when we have an entire hotel room with a lovely bed waiting for us close by." She presses her lips against mine, her tongue darting out and running along my top lip and I groan against her

"You sure?" I ask as I pull back slightly, "your backseat is quite spacious..." but she shakes her head playfully

"I think I'd just much rather forget about town right now, and get straight to that hotel room, what do you reckon?"

"I say what are we waiting for..." I give her backside a light slap and she giggles as she turns to get back into the car and I jog around to the driver's side.

Perhaps this is what she needs; a romantic couple days away to rekindle our relationship

And to create some better memories going forward of September the 19th...


	7. Chapter 7: Carla

"Baby, are you sure you packed that long lighter thingie?" I pause as we exit the lobby of the hotel in Grasmere, fiddling with my oversized tote that hold both the floating water lanterns and a change of shoes for dinner after the lake visit, as my stomach suddenly flips with nervous energy.

Peter wraps his arm around my shoulder and plants a soft kiss to my temple that instantly seems to calm me down, "For the fourth time, yes, love," he whispers sweetly, "It's probably just fallen to the bottom of that oversized bag of yours. Have you checked underneath your sandals?"

"Ah! Yes! Here it is!" I cry triumphantly as I pull the lighter from the bag and shake it victoriously, "sorry, thank you..." I smile at him, leaning over and kissing him on the lips. He pulls me in closer to his side as we fall into a natural step together down the winding driveway of our hotel, smiling at some other couples as they pass us by.

"We're just going somewhere casual for dinner, right Peter?" I ask a bit nervously, pulling away from his side but grasping his hand in mine as I look over his smart looking attire, and then down at my own apprehensively.

"It's a little above casual but nowt fancy," he says, stepping away and eyeing me appreciatively from top to bottom, "have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?" He pulls me slightly off the sidewalk and onto the grass, his arms wrapping around my waist and pressing me flush against him, and I can't help the blush that creeps upon my cheeks

"Only about six times or so before we left the room," I smile cheekily at him, "but I won't stop you from saying it another six times..."

"How about six hundred?" he captures my lips with his and when he pulls back I'm trying to stifle the giddy smile I know is tugging at my lips and I rub them together

"That might be a tad excessive, Barlow," I playfully pat his chest,

"You look stunning, Carla," he says sincerely, taking in my long, flowy midi skirt, flat sandals and loose off the shoulder 3/4 length sleeve jumper, "you never needed the fancy designer gear to do that," he kisses my cheek, lovingly, "but I can't deny that I can't wait to see you at dinner in them heels you brought with you later..."

I chuckle a bit, "they're hardly the heels I'm used to though, are they?" I say referring to the wedge sandals that sit in my tote, "they're about 2 inches shorter than most of my heels, but I think they're all I can muster right now..." I look down embarrassingly

"Hey," he plucks my chin up with his forefinger, "what do you mean, love?"

"Peter, look at me," I state and take a step back from him, my arms out on either side of me, my brows furrowing in concern, "I've been so used to wearing leggings, and trainers and loose shirts for months, that the thought of even getting back into my regular clothes, just terrifies me. I keep wearing all these loose things because," I run a hand through my hair, "I'm just not comfortable in me own skin, yet..."

I feel his hand wrap about my upper arm, pulling me against him. His hands slide down, circling just below my hips, and he sways me slightly, "you will be love," he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose, "one day at a time, remember?"

I nod and look up into his eyes — those damn captivating eyes that still make me weak in the knees and cause the butterflies in my stomach to flutter as rapidly as they did all them years ago; and here we stand, nine years on from the time I fell hard for my then best mate's fiancee, and despite them aging ever so slightly, his eyes remain as warm and filled with love as they gaze upon me as they ever did; and I abruptly feel overwhelmed and undeserving of it all...

"Come on," I say as I reluctantly remove myself from him, "at this rate, we'll lose the sunset," I smile softly, taking hold of his hand again as we head towards the path leading to Lake Grasmere.

* * *

"How's this spot, Car?" Peter calls to me as he stands a ways off on the bank, and I glance to him, smiling and nodding in approval. But before I head over to him, I turn back to the water ahead of me, my eyes closing as I feel the warmth of the setting sun's beams casting over me.

I breathe in deeply, and as I exhale slowly, my eyes blink open and I feel a slight apprehensiveness taking over.

This is it.

This is the moment I choose to stop running from Frank Foster...

As I walk towards Peter, I can't help but grin at his child-like dopey expression. He's so proud of himself for suggesting this last year, and the happiness that we were able to actually make it here today radiates off of him as he holds his hand out for me to grasp as I step over a large log that lies between us before both leaning up against it, my head resting instinctively onto his shoulder as we await the sun to finish setting.

"I love you, you know," the words escape me before I can stop myself and I suddenly feel a lightness about me as I continue on; the floodgates having opened with no hope of closing now, "I never stopped..."

"I know," he whispers back, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he kisses my head, "I never stopped loving you either," he sighs, "never, Carla. I know you may not believe that after everything that happened between us when we were married, but it's true. It's only ever been you..."

"I believe you, Peter," I assure him, "I do. After everything that happened this year, I believe that more than ever," I raise my head to look at him, my fingers coming up to playfully tug on his trimmed beard, "you know, I was sure you had cut and run in March. I was sure you had believed the absolute worst in me; that I was capable of burning down your boat and setting someone else up to take the fall in the process. I thought you finally saw what everyone else did: that I was rotten inside..." I swallow, watching as he shakes his head and I press my forehead to his before he can interject, "I thought you had stopped loving me even though you told me you hadn't that day in your dad's car. And as I watched you drive away, I felt my heart shattering in my chest and I didn't know if I'd ever be able to put it back together again. And then you came back...you were the only one who saw me even when others couldn't recognize me," I shudder against him as I remember my breakdown months ago, "when I couldn't even recognize myself...and that's when I knew," I swallow the lump that rises in my throat, "that's when I knew that you really did love me, but I was too broken to feel anything..."

"I knew you were in there, baby," he says softly, "I just didn't know if you would have been able to come through it," he squeezes me closer to him and I hear his voice cracking, "I wouldn't have stopped loving you though, and I need you to know that. Even if you never came through it, I would still love you to my dying breath."

I feel the tears escaping my eyes, and when I open them I see his own are making their way down his face. I twist my body towards his, reaching up and cupping his face, my thumbs brushing his cheeks as he has done with me so many times, and I lean in to kiss him, "I know," I say as I move my lips to kiss his forehead, "I know..."

He returns the favour of wiping my tears away before kissing my temple and encouraging me to lay my head back on his shoulder. We're quiet for a few minutes, simply marveling at the colours of the sky as the sun sets further behind the trees, until his soothing voice breaks the silence that surrounds us, "I nearly forgot," he says with a chuckle, "when I told me dad where we were going earlier this week, he insisted on telling me how Grasmere was home to the poet William Wordsworth for about 8 years. I think he's buried here actually..."

"Not planning an excursion for us, are you darlin'?" I chuckle and he pokes me playfully

"If you keep up with that smart mouth, I just might," he teases, "anyhow as I was saying, dad told me that Woodsworth wrote some of his best poems here, so I decided to look him up on me tablet -"

I raise my head and look at him, my eyebrow inching upwards skeptically, "okay," he acquiesces and chuckles, "I had our Si look it up," I can't help but laugh and he pulls me back under his arm, "he found this quote that he thought was perfect for us,"

"Did he now?" I can't help but smile, "should I be worried?"

I feel him shake his head as he raises my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers, "not at all, he adores you, you know that."

I nod, feeling so much more at ease being back with Peter now that Simon and I get on like a house on fire, "go on then," I encourage him, "what's this quote he found?"

"Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future."

I feel a shiver running down my spine as the words fully sink in, "Oh," I say, "oh, he's good..."

Peter laughs, "let's not tell him that though eh? His head'll grow so big he'll have to turn sideways to get through doorways..."

"So, definitely like his dad then..." I tease and he tickles me

"So help me, I will throw you into this lake, Connor," he threatens me playfully,

"You wouldn't dare," I challenge him

His eyes traipse up and down my body, "Oh believe me, I'd love nothing more than to see you all wet..." he kisses my lips passionately, "but I suppose I could wait until we make use of that hot tub later tonight, give the bed a break eh?" he winks at me cheekily

I shake my head, "I still can't believe you found a hotel room that has its own little closed in terrace with its own hot tub!" I cup his cheek lovingly, "baby this must of cost you a small fortune..."

He shakes his head, "I booked it last year,"

"What?"

He nods his head, "September 22nd. Got a deal on it and all for booking so far ahead,"

"I can't believe you did that," I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes again as it fully dawns on me just how much he loves me, and I start to feel myself becoming incredibly emotional. Before I turn into a simpering wreck, I pull myself up to a standing position, "right, shall we do this, then?" I say as I lift my tote onto the log and ruffle through it, pulling out the lighter and the two lanterns.

"You lighting two of them, love?" he asks as I hand him one

"No. One's for you," I say with a smile, unfolding the lantern and popping it into shape and he look quizzically at me

"For me?" he asks, turning the lantern in his hands

I nod and step in front of him, my hand placing itself on his softly, "for Tina..."

He shakes his head, "Car-"

"No," I place my finger against his lips to stop him from protesting, "what you said on New Years Eve Peter, that you'll never forgive yourself for Tina, you have to, baby," I can see him stubbornly trying to fight it so I plead with him, "Peter, I've forgiven you. And now you have to as well; for both of our sakes, you have too..."

He reaches his hand around my head, pulling me in sharply for a kiss, and I can feel him breaking softly as his lips dance with mine. He pulls back, his forehead resting on mine and when he speaks it's barely above a whisper, "I don't deserve you..."

"I think we should start believing that we deserve the love that we have for each other," I say before chuckling, "that, or that we need to accept that we need to stay together simply to contain the 'crazy' and not infect those that will undoubtedly walk into our orbits, otherwise..."

He laughs that loud, genuine, Peter Barlow laugh that just melts me, "I love you, Carla."

I feel the blush rising to my cheeks again, and I push away from him, "I know you do, you soppy git," I tease, "now let's get these sorted and lit because I do not want to be traipsing down that trail in the dark!"

He mock salutes, "yes madam bossyboots," and he chuckles as I stick my tongue out at him.

We stand at the water's edge, each holding our now lit lanterns. Peter goes first, crouching down and placing it softly onto the water, giving it a sharp nudge and it slowly floats away with the breeze. I stand watching as he rises to his feet, his eyes glued to the lantern and he breathes in deeply and exhales, a smile of contentment slowly gracing his face and he turns to me, "your turn, baby."

I crouch down and place the lantern on the water, but before I can give it that final push out, I find myself hesitating. I can feel my mind starting to play tricks with me, and I try to control the rising panic I feel as my brain reels with voices from that night - that night eight years ago today...

_"Be honest with me Carla, then I'll go! I think you owe me that, eh?"_

_"Okay, there is someone, yeah."_

_"You see, I knew it. Who is it?"_

_"It really doesn't matter-" _

_"Let me guess? Ex-alchie? Runs a bookie? Leather jacket? It's him isn't it?...__**Isn't it**?!" _

_"Yeah…"_

_"Where? here? In our bedroom? How many times?"_

_"Stop it…"_

_"Every time you had a meeting with a 'so-called' client! Was he good? Did he make you cry out?"_

_"Stop it! We didn't sleep together! I just-can't get **him** out of **my** head. That's all. __Now, please will you just go, 'c-cause you asked me to tell you the truth and I have done. Just go…"_

_"I trusted you, I opened up to you like I never have with any other woman, and you-you were using me."_

_"No I wasn't-" _

_"Using me to make your boyfriend jealous! A smokescreen! For your sordid little affair!"_

_"It's not true-" _

_"And now you think you can just chuck me away, job done?" _

_"Okay, I want you to go, now!" _

_"It's your fault...you made me do it!"_

_"Carla...?"_

For a moment I'd forgotten how it felt to be completely paralyzed in shock, just as I had been eight years ago, tonight. And yet here I am, experiencing it all over again as if it were yesterday...and I feel my heart sink as I panic that I am unable to go through with this...

I don't realize I am crying until I feel Peter's arm wrap about my shoulders supportively, his lips pressing softly to my damp cheek. "It's okay," he whispers, "take all the time you need, love. I'm right here with you..." he sparks the lighter, igniting the flame and holding it to the wick of my lantern's tea light, which had been extinguished from my falling tears. Once lit, he places the lighter down beside him, gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze, his now free hand brushing away the tears that have fallen down my cheeks as I remain crouched and trembling in his embrace. I breathe in deeply, my hand rising up and grasping his and I clutch it to my chest, drawing strength from him, just as I did all those years ago. I bring his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before releasing it and giving the lit lantern a push.

We rise to our feet, watching as it floats off towards Peter's.

And as I watch them both gently drift along, the flickering flames in them reflecting off the dark, inky water beneath them, standing here in my lover and partner's comforting embrace, I, for the first time in eight years, start to feel the parts of me that Frank had shattered, slowly piecing themselves back together...

* * *

I finish the last piece of steak, and placing my knife and fork onto the plate, I gently push it from me, "that was delicious," I say, eyeing the remaining chips on Peter's plate before reaching over and playfully plucking one. He swats at my hand, pretending to try to pry it back but as I quickly pop it into my mouth with a chuckle, he knows that I can see through him; he enjoys this little game we always play. He's always shared his chips with me...

He sidles up closer to me, kissing my temple and wrapping his arm around me, "what's the scores on the doors?" he asks with a smile

I chuckle, "I'd say about an eight right now,"

"Eight's very good," he smiles again and I feel my heart flutter

"I talked to my psychologist about this yesterday," I say quietly, "I told them about what we were gonna do up 'ere with the lanterns; and they said that my past will always be a part of my history, but it shouldn't be my present," I smile at him, "I feel lighter since I let that lantern go, I feel like I've finally said goodbye to Frank from always being in my present, and letting him go back where he belongs - in my past - to being a part of my history, and nothing more."

"That sounds like a good step, love."

I nod in agreement, "he'll still come back every now and again, I'm sure of that. But I think I may just be able to handle it better now," I let out a sigh, "Peter, I let him control so much of my decisions over the years; when he were alive, after he died...he were always controlling me, suffocating me. Every decision I made, including how our relationship started, stemmed from his influence, one way or another..."

"How'd you mean, 'how our relationship started,' love?" he asks me gently and I hear the worry in his voice.

As I look at him, the urge to lie looks more appealing; but I know in my heart that I've come too far now - we've come too far- in my recovery and in his, to not be honest anymore.

"We promised to be honest with each other, didn't we?" I respond carefully, "no matter what?"

He nods, but gets fidgety, his hand running over his mouth and beard nervously.

"Peter, lies destroyed us last time," I whisper as my body turns towards him and I grasp his hand in mine, "I need to know I can be honest with you and that you'll listen openly to what I'm gonna say," I feel my eyes prick with tears, my nerves are starting to get the better of me, "please, Peter," I plead with him as he drops his other hand from his face and cups mine instead

"Do you remember the lyrics of that song you like," he says to me reassuringly, "_I'll Stand By You_, by the Pretenders?" at my nod he continues, the backs of his fingers caressing my cheek softly, "nothing you confess, could make me love you less..."

At his encouraging smile, I breathe deeply, "I don't regret us ever getting together Peter, and I need you to understand that," he smiles and I exhale shakily, "but I do regret _how_ we got together; how we hurt Leanne and Simon, and ..." I feel the tears welling up again in my eyes, "-and I regret my rationale behind the first time we had sex..."

"What do you mean?" he prods gently, and I note that his voice is kind and not accusatory, giving me the encouragement to continue

"I wanted to sleep with you since I first fell for you, and that didn't change that night," I feel myself getting nervous and quickly reach for my lime and soda, taking a rather large gulp of it to quench my now dry throat, before placing it back on the table and fiddling with my fingers, "I wanted you so much, but I also felt that if I didn't sleep with you then, you wouldn't want me anymore..."

I feel the moment the words hit him. His head drops, his breathing becomes shallow but he reaches out and grabs my hands in his, raising them both to his mouth as he plants several kisses on them before speaking, "I'm sorry..." he says as he raises his eyes pleadingly into mine, "I'm so sorry for ever making you feel that way-"

"No!" I cry out, my voice louder than expected and I dart my head nervously around the restaurant, thankful that none of the other punters seem to have heard me, and I turn back to him pleadingly, "it weren't you Pe'er, I need you to believe that! It had nothing to do with you, I promise!" I exhale, throwing my head back so my eyes gaze upon the ceiling above us momentarily before dropping back to him, "you never pressurized me, and I knew you never would. It were _me,_ baby. It were Frank's voice in me head taunting me at our engagement dinner about how you would always choose Leanne because you've seen me at my worst. It were him taunting me that he'd make sure neither you or any other man would ever want me while he was ra-" I can't help the sob that escapes my lips and he shifts his body ever closer to me in the booth, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls me into his chest. My hands grasp the material of his shirt as his hand cradles the back of my head, shielding me from the view of any punters that may be looking, "it were me feeling like I were ruined, and dirty," I continue quietly, "and I thought that even though I knew I was, if I didn't try to prove to you that I wasn't that night, that you would eventually realize it yourself and you'd want nowt to do with me... and I wouldn't have been able to bear the pain of having you so close and then losing you without ever knowing how it felt to be with someone who loved me..."

"Oh love," he squeezes me tightly against him, pressing kisses to my head, "I can't believe you held this in for eight years." He sighs as I feel myself calming in his embrace, my hands wrapping around to his back and holding him closer to me, "I never saw you as ruined or dirty, Car. I know that's how you felt, and I understand why, but I never, _ever_ saw you like that. I would've waited for you until you were ready, and to be honest I regret how we started out too. Because if I hadn't been such a coward, I would have ended it with Leanne and wooed you the way you deserved to be. I would have made you feel wanted and loved and desired, and maybe," he sighs deeply, "maybe then you would have started to see that you weren't ruined by Frank. And maybe our first time together would have been more about me worshipping you like the love of my life that I saw you as, and not as my secret affair..." He pulls me up, his hands cupping either side of my face and he kisses me, his head dipping down to look into my eyes lovingly, "you know, we may not be able to change the past, Car, but we can fix the present."

"How'd you mean?" I ask, my hand coming up to brush away the dampness on my cheeks

"Let's get the bill, and go back to the hotel room. We'll pop open that bottle of sparkling 'apple juice' as you call it," he laughs and I can't help but join in, "and we'll get into that hot tub, and have a romantic night in; a start to the rest of our lives - in your new skin, as it were - tonight, the proper way. Because Carla, if there's one thing I know with all my heart, it's that I love you as much now as I ever have. And if there's anything that I've learned from my brother and Sinead, it's that we can't risk waiting to show the one we love how much they mean to us..."

I feel my eyes water as I stare into his warm, brown eyes, and I rub my lips together and nod in agreement, placing a kiss on his cheek before cuddling into his side as he waves the waiter over...

* * *

My eyes slowly flutter open as the sunlight streams in gently through the curtains. I can hear the birds chirping merrily outside the windows and I carefully stretch my limbs, feeling the strong arm that's wrapped about me instinctively pull me in closer, and I grin happily as I take in my surroundings.

We lay in the bed of our hotel room, our naked limbs stretched out beside one another; thoroughly sated and content. My head rests in the crook of Peter's neck and I can feel the vibration of his steady heartbeat, feel the soft rise and fall of his chest below my fingertips, as he slowly awakens himself. And it is in that moment, as I lay in the love of my life's arms, that I realize that for the first time in eight years - as September 19th turned into September 20th - Frank Foster did not once enter my dreamscape.

I kiss Peter's neck softly, feeling the vibration upon my lips as he groans slightly and gently begins to caress my back lovingly.

And in this moment, I remember what it was like to love someone unconditionally, and be loved unconditionally by them in return.

And as I snuggle more into Peter's warm body, that was something I promised myself that Frank would never take away from me again...

* * *

_**FIN**_


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